Page 67 of Beneath the Quiet

I frown down at my phone. The unhappiness in his words is almost tangible.

ME: I thought you’d like to know I met her and what she said, but I don’t want you to be sad. I handled it.

AIDAN (FARMER): I’m not sad, Mae.

ME: Good, because she walked with me all the way to the community centre, said her piece, and then told me she had to get home to your dad She tricked me! 😂

AIDAN (FARMER): The woman is relentless.

ME: Did it make you laugh? Tell me the truth.

AIDAN (FARMER): It did.

ME: Good.

AIDAN (FARMER): Texting you always makes me smile, Mae. I like it.

This time, his text sends a surge of warmth through me, and I run my thumbs over his words in a light caress, rereading them. But then reality comes crashing down on me again, pressing hard on my chest, and I send him one last text.

ME: I’m glad. Texting you is one of my favourite things.

I put the phone on silent mode and square my shoulders, letting the soft wind blowing around me match my breathing. Little by little, calm washes over me, and I’m ready to face the curious glances at the station.

I can do this.

Chapter Eighteen

Aidan

The woman has me tied up in knots.

What the fuck is it about her that makes it impossible to keep my hands to myself?

Fuck, I almost kissed her that night at the pub.

For a moment there I thought she wouldn’t have minded if I had. I think back on the way her breathing picked up when I invaded her private space. The ball of elation that filled my chest when she didn’t step away from me should have set off big, fat warning bells inside me, but the building lust only intensified my longing for her instead. I kept chanting silently to step back, but my feet were like cement.

I can’t get the way her eyes darkened out of my mind, either. Was it the same desire I saw reflected back at me that I felt?

If only she didn’t live in the same bloody village as I do, it would be much easier to resist her.

But I shouldn’t keep daydreaming about her. I should stay far away from her. If I don’t, people will start gossiping, and I don’t want that.

I can’t say whether the catalyst was the altercation with Niall the other night or if I’m telling half-truths, but Maeve has had me wound up for so many nights that I wake up with a raging hard-on every morning now. And before the crack of dawn as well.

I groan on a long stretch when I check the time on my phone.

Being a farmer during harvest time means getting up and working before everybody else, but even though we’re getting closer to May, four a.m. is way too early. My throbbing cock says otherwise, but I ignore it.

I wipe my hands over my eyes to clear away the sleep and then reach for my phone again, checking it for messages. I don’t know why, because who’d text me at this Godforsaken hour? But as if they have a mind of their own, my fingers find my thread with Maeve. The urge to send her a message is so strong that I tighten my grip on my phone.

But why would I text her? I don’t have a good excuse to contact her, and not at this time of day.

I dismiss the idea and toss the phone down on my bed, but the distinctive vibration makes me pause, and I flip it back up.

MAEVE: We need to talk.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Quickly, I shoot back a text.